RPlog:Battle of Bimmiel
The Vindictive was a Victory class Star Destroyer, and while not as massive as the Imperial class, or its' much larger cousin the IS2D, it was still an impressive sight. But it was a much older design, and had been in service equally as long. As often is the case with any machine of war, it was subject to wear. The daily grind of battle, quick patches, refits and damage had finally worn her down and the venerable Destroyer had given in. With a stunning display of pyrotechnics that claimed the lives of at least fifty crew members, the hyperdrive system relays had ruptured. The successive explosions had blown the safeties and both internal deck plates and external armor alike. Listing slightly, the ship was undergoing emergency repairs and upgrades. The hangar door was jammed shut, and most of the lower sections were open to the voids of space and rendered untenable. Sitting in deep space with no hyperdrive, the HIMS Vindictive was operating at minimal capacity. Admiral Rall had ordered all non-critical staff and crew off the ship, a Cruiser had docked, off loaded the engineers and repair crew and removed the nearly five thousand crew members and was now in route to Selene. The goal was to prevent further injuries and once the ship was operational she would head to Selene for the more major repairs where the crew would rejoin the ship. Only a skeleton crew remained to over see the dangerous repairs. This close to the rebel controlled border, Admiral Rall had decided to remain on board her flag ship as well. Jal'Dana's stubborn refusal to leave at the first sign of malfunctioning systems was an inspiration to the crew who even now insisted she leave for the relative safety of Selene. Moral wasn't the only thing that kept the small woman on he ship. She had remained on the off chance that the Rebels had caught wind of the injured ship and wanted to take a run at it. Alone and damaged, the Vindictive was a prime target. The older Star Destroyer was still a war horse and Jal'Dana just had a gut feeling that it was in danger. She had hoped repairs would be finished, but there had been a few issues and they were behind schedule. The Admiral knew they were pushing their luck, but couldn't call for support as most taskforces were busy attacking or defending more important locations. As she paced the bridge she couldn't help be feel alone, and as the minutes built a sense of foreboding NRCV Audacity leads the charge. NRAF Portrane, NRCV Land Runner, and NRCV Plaxif are also assigned to the case by Fleet Command once their allies in NRI fill them in on precisely what they need to know (and nothing more). All Ghost and Falcon squadron members had their Festival of the Jewel leaves canceled and were shipped out aboard the capital ships, with Ghost parked on Audacity. Once the four New Republic ships had arrived where their prey was said to be, Starwind, the task force commander, immediately ordered the launching of the fighters while the four main ships maneuvered themselves for optimal ranges and attack angles on the wounded Vindictive. Within the cockpit of Ghost One, Kyrin Sh'vani does one final check of her systems, coordinating with her astromech as she ordered her boys and girls into the fray. "Cut the chatter, Ghosts." Switching channels, she comms over to the bright and shiny Falcon One. "Rap... Spider, kindly take point, we will do our best to keep. May the Force be with us..." Tapping his helmet twice for good luck, Raxis "Spider" L'ygr arranges his squadron to have opens for tactical relays to Ghost Squadron. Working in unison, he let out a slow breath and listened to his A-wing's humming motor ignite to speed. Spearheading a squadron of A-wing starfighters, Raxis heard the familiar voice of his former Commanding Officer crisply echo through his headset. Punching his weapons capacitors to full, he angled around Ghost Squadron to spearhead a wide diamond formation of A-wings to lead the charge. "Copy Phoenix, Falcons moving into position. May the force be with you all as well, over." He responds, clicking his vox over to his squadron channel. "Allright Falcons, saddle up and fire up your IFF scramblers. We're first in so keep your engines primed and remember, Speed is Life. Knuckle up and fall into diamond and push in, run evasives and let's buy the Ghosts some time. Stick with your wingmen. Spider Out." He adds, narrowing his eyes and igniting his thrusters to take them straight towards the Star Destroyer. Once his ship had blinked out of hyperspace, Cerean Flight Officer Ta-Nui-Bonda had started running through a mental checklist of everything he'd learned in flight school. Not nearly enough weeks had past since he'd graduated and been assigned to Ghost 10, where he flies now as the wingman of the squadron's third flight. The rookie had been deemed advanced enough to be assigned at least temporarily to an elite squadron, but as the starstreaks resolve into poinpoints, his beating heart makes him wonder if real combat will justify the honor. "Ghost 10, checking in," he announces in the most by-the-book manner. "Locking S-foils into attack position." He looks from his flight controls out to the massive arrowhead of the Star Destroyer ahead and breathes a quick prayer to his personal deities that he'll finish well and make it home to see his wives again on Ord Mantell. Maroc pulls the hyperspace control back and watches as the starlines turn to pin points and oriten around to become real space again. Locking his s-foils into combat position he comms in, "Ghost four reporting in, s-foils locked." He then shunts his shield systems equally around front and back while moving into formation with his squadron leader. Grunax revs the engine of his own A-wing, spilling the power away from his weapon capacitors, and instead to the engines. Reinforcing his frontal shields for the assault, the Dug gets his A-Wing into the diamond formation. "Falcon Six, Reporting in, systems green." His own senses coming together to focus on first attacks. A very very deadly proposition. While he could have grumbled at the lost opportunity to have some more downtime, Rasi instead simply smiles, rather grimly but it is still a smile, at the sight that greets him when he looks out the forward viewscreen. Standing almost at the centre of the bridge, the duty of commanding the Audacity has been delegated to him while the vessel's actual CO took care of the task of leading the Task Force he now led. Almost unconsciously, he tugs down on the hem of his jacket, one must make an effort to look at the least halfway presentable, even if it is to just pick off a downed Star Destroyer. Then again, the Imperials have this nasty habit of not doing things according to carefully laid out plans, and this might yet turn into one of those he considers himself lucky to walk away from. When the fighters are offloaded from the Audacity's hangar bays, the vessel can turn to its primary duty. "The Victory might be damaged, but it still carries quite a punch, make sure to not pilot us into their primary arcs of fire.", those commands given to his bridge crew, the Fondorian turns to one of the other screens present on the Audacity's bridge, that which shows the actual full battle, or at least what parts of it are within scanning range of the Marauder-corvette. "Concentrate fire on those sections already exposed to space, or otherwise heavily damaged, they might just serve to fatally compromise hull integrity." Aboard the NRCV Plaxiff, Captain Reynar Dax dominates the bridge. A tall, well built man in his late thirties with a prominently broken nose, he half slouches in his command chair with the relaxed ease of a panther. With the bleeping of the ship's sensors announcing the activation of the Star Destroyer's defenses, he nods once at his First Mate. "Red Alert! All hands, to battle stations!" he announces into his shipwide communicator. He looks back at the man at his side. "Mr. Thomlin, if you please. Forward deflectors to full and run out the guns." An archaic term for charging the weapon batteries. "Arm all launchers and check comms with the squadrons. Bring us to a heading of...one five mark two nine. Give me five hundred kilometers and adjust bearing to six one mark one three." He flicks his communicator open. "Plaxiff to Audacity. Jared, we're eleven seconds from firing range and maneuvering for optimal position for full volley against the target." Moment before the gun crew had been awakened, the bridge had been quiet. The alarm claxons started screaming with enemy contacts just as the radar officer had started turning in his seat. "Admiral, we have numerous contacts on an approaching on a sharp vector. Ma'am it looks like a whole Rebel taskforce" Sure enough, what remained of the bridge crew could see the large silhouettes of the Capital class vessels and even with out seeing them, the crew of the Vindictive knew the snub nosed fighter were on there way as well. "It's too large a force for this to be random bad luck. They're here for us" Admiral Rall said in a cool clipped tone as she started to formulate an action plan. "Raise shields, bring the weapons on line and let's get moving towards them. We make our stand here." Always aggressive, Jal'Dana knew the ships only hope was to inflict such a cost that the Rebels withdrew, short of that the wounded bird had little hope. If the rebels remained committed, she would put up a fight, but the Admiral would scuttle the destroyer rather than lose it or risk its capture. That dark though was pushed away for now, there was still fight in her and her ship. "Commander," Jal'Dana addressed the senior bridge officer that remained. "Have forty turbolaser batteries set up an anti-starfigher screen, I don't want them getting close enough to just pick us apart. Reserve eighty and the missile launchers for their Cruisers." And as if secondary to the battle plan "And get those engineers the heck out of there, have them get one of our hangers working." "Understood Ma'am" and already the space around the damaged destroyer was being filled with green anti starfighter and missile fire. The fighters were coming in quickly for the gun crew of turret p-1273, nicked name the Pow Pow palace; it was one of the longest continuous service crews on the Vindictive. Led by Gunnery Sgt. Remy they were the best the ship had to offer. They had remained behind when the rest of the crews had left, and they were not going to shrink away from the fight. Of course no one really expected a fight, but if the Admiral stayed on board, so would they. When the alarm sounded most were off in their quarters, but quickly they made there way to the battle station. *This is not a Drill* was all they needed to hear and the brought the weapon, a massive Turbo laser on the prow online. The orders were simple, Kill starfighters and so they would get to work. They had no friendlies in the area so all arcs were open, of course they had no friendless in the mix so the enemy could return fire at all arcs. As the sensors start to register blips Private Carver says, "Holy bantha! Look at them all!" "Easy - It's just more to hit" Remy says and then selects their first targets, "Aim for the second squadron in, cut them off and spook the leads" And with that the crew sets about to the business of killing, green lasers lancing out. "Ghosts," calls out their CO, "Mind the incoming fire. They are trying to cause us to scatter and leave the Falcons out to die." Kyrin spins her X-Wing through a full barrel roll to avoid an incoming bolt of death. "Evasive maneuvers, shields double front. We have room to maneuver, but mind the arcs of fire from our capital ships." She looks over her shoulder as Sandman, in Ghost 6, swears a mighty Corellian oath about Imperial tactics, and she smiles. "Spider, some help in ridding us of these stinging bugs would be appreciated, no offense intended. We have a few torpedoes to deliver." The second squadron in happened to be X-wings, and the large bolts were jumping from the turret, it was hot sweaty nasty work, and each of the enlisted men loved it. The turret moved in smooth succession filling the emptiness of space with green death and destruction. "Come get some!" Carver shouted to the on coming enemy craft. GSgt. Remy couldn't help but smile, he feed off his crew's enthusiasm but deep in his gut he knew this was bad. There was a reason that the fighter jocks and bomber pilots were treated like gods on the decks, they were the thin black line that protected the beast that was the Destroyer Vindictive, the fact that its commander was jock spoke to the importance. "Keep focus, don't start to fire at shadows. Every shot counts" The A-wing's scramble wasn't going to work this time, because there were no TIEs in the air. "Just shoot anything" And as if to hammer home that point, one X-wing is turned into a flaming streak. Of course the gunners only see the blip disappear on the radar, but it was just one and the alarms were dully sounding from the in coming fire. As the X-wings close upon their prey in Falcon Squadron's wake, Ta-Nui-Bonda adjusts his power levels to keep up with the other snub fighters and opts to set his shields on double front. He double-clicks his comm to acknowledge Kyrin's instructions. "I wonder if it wouldn't make more sense to close the S-foils for extra speed," he murmurs to himself, off-comm. "Don't see any enemy fighters, so we shouldn't need blasters." He's too new, though, to bring this up to the others. Maybe after the mission is over.... The Cerean's thoughts are interrupted as cannonfire explodes off his starboard bow like so much flak, giving his fighter a bit of a shake. Pushing his fighter a notch downward, he brings his mind back to the present, a bit more wide-eyed. "Ghost Ten preparing to lock target," he reports, nosing the X-wing now toward one of the open voids in the Destroyer's hull even as his wing leader does the same. The Cerean cycles through his weapons, fixes his target, and listens as the targeting computer pings away in search of the lock. Grunax punches the power from the shields, running a barebones minimum with double forwards (Relatively speaking), the dug transfers all the power into his own lasers, drifting behind the shielding A-wings as he begins to shoot at turrets as they appear, not going to shoot to kill, but as many as he can manage, if nothing more to try and get the shots under the shields and weaken or destroy the turrets. It takes some time for the small corvette, at least when compared to the larger Assault Frigate beside it, and certainly when placed next to the Victory-class capital ship, to reach weapons range. But when it does, the reason why it was chosen to participate is made clear as the now-upgraded Marauder punches quite above its weight limit, so to speak. "Provide cover fire for our fighter accompaniment, and watch out for friendly hits. But our main target remains the Victory-class, silence as many of their active battery positions as possible." Accompanying Rasi's words is a soft jolt that goes through the ship as many of the ventral and dorsal-positioned emplacements commence firing, soon to be joined by all others that can be aimed at the Star Destroyer. Instead of dividing their batteries, the Audacity's are grouped into two large groups, the concentrated fire aimed at successive batteries along those portions of the Star Destroyer's hull that can be hit, in particular those that now fire on the X-wings. If perhaps they can remove as many of the Star Destroyer's guns as possible, perhaps the Imperials could be forced or at least they could blow it up themselves and spare him the trouble. The Marauder-corvette's agility is shown off as it begins evasive maneuvers against whatever is sent towards it by the Imperials while keeping as many of their owns guns active as possible, though presumably not much is aimed at it right now. As the Plaxiff closes to within firing range, the lean captain in her command chair cups his chin in hand. "Charge all forward guns," Dex tells the tactical helmsmen. "Order all gunners to check targets. Let loose two torpedo salvos when we close in range." He leans forward unconsciously as if using his body to will the ship closer to the wounded Star Destroyer, conscious of the tenacity of a cornered, angry beast. "Range, Captain!" the tactical officer barks. "Fire all cannon and loose a volley! Loose!" Reynar says with a sharp chopping motion. The space in front of the ship is suddenly flooded with a smattering of turbolaser fire, arcing across the starfield towards the damaged Star Destroyer. There's a series of sharp *whumphs* as the torpedos breach the Corvette's shields, roaring silently towards the wounded grey wedge spurting turbolaser fire in all directions. "Loose!" he shouts again, and another volley of torpedos arc away. "Tactical, fire at will!" he orders the gunner. Regular volleys of torpedos arc away as the Corvette erupts in a blistering array of deadly fire. Not only was the radar filling with both large and small points marking the capital class vessels and snub-nosed fighters but the transparisteel view ports at the forward side of the bridge were as well. The Admiral had to think quickly, for never in her naval career had she been this outnumbered. The Empire had always preferred 'swarm' tactics, the use of overwhelming force that been the corner stone of the Admiralty's thinking. It seemed that Jal'Dana would be on the receiving end this time. "Let's close the gap, before the Starfighters can set up a kill zone." Jal'Dana says gesturing towards the enemy battle line. "Get us inside the cruiser's arcs that way they will have to watch their own fighters" As the Imperial Destroyer had none to worry about the plan was solid. No matter what the Vindictive fired upon, it was an enemy. "Let's see if we can split the gap between that corvette and frigate. I don't want them picking one spot and just pounding us" Jal'Dana was all business, moving over her bridge as if she owned the field. In fact, a pounding was exactly what the small woman had in mind. "There" Admiral Rall said as she pointed to the smallest of the enemy corvettes, The Land Runner. "I want all our tractor beams on that and then fire all concussion missile tubes. Destroy it or cripple it and then move on." Concerning herself with the over all odds, the Admiral couldn't help but feel like a Reek surrounded by a pack of Mantessan panthacs. However, like a Reek, the Vindictive still could gore the Rebel fleet. "Careful there, Four," calls out Ghost Lead as she preps her first pair of torpedoes. "Ghosts, ready two proton torpedoes for the most vulnerable sections. Sandman, your flight will work on the engines." Seeing Rebecca's flight already working on the vulnerable holds open to space, the Chyleni pilot nods grimly. "First Flight, with me. We will take on the bridge deflector shields. Target and fire two when ready. Status, Spider?" she queries of her comrades in the A-wings even as she lines up her targets near Vindictive's bridge and its shield generators. Thumbing the button on the stick, Ghost One unleashes its most deadly payload. "Arc around for a second run, keep clear for point seven to allow the capitals to have an open field, then resume with second run on uneliminated targets." "Enroute and in progress, Phoenix." Raxis calls out over his communicator as sparks release into space with the destruction of a pair of turbolasers. "We're rolling over the top crossing near the aft. Grab in the wake and we'll cut a path for you." Raxis calls out, blasting in a few shots of his own as his flight group rolls over the last of the starboard side. His ship shudders as a pair of late shots skim his shields, too slow to match his passing speed. Yanking his flight yoke upwards, he veers his crew on a path that'll lead them skimming over the top of the Star Destroyer, towards the turret. "Allright open up on them, Falcons, let's help them get those bridge deflectors! Stay Random!" He calls out, weaving a path for Falcons Four, Five, and Six to get their shots in. Sergeant Remy remains calm and collected, even while the screams and static from the nearest gunnery stations reach his ears through the comm. "They're going for the bridge deflectors," he announces, motioning toward the fast-moving blips that resemble A-wings. "Keep targetting the slower fighters... make the scum dodge shrapnel." Private Carver pulls and yanks the massive turbolaser controls, energy scatter reflecting from his helmet visor as he unleashes green fury into space, trying his best to guess a proper lead on one of the X-wings. Hearing Kyrin's instructions to arm and fire both tubes rather than just one, Ta-Nui-Bonda moves a hand and lights up his second launcher. The X-wing takes a moment to respond as the extra weaponry comes online and the computer recalculates the firing trajectory to prevent the two torpedoes from hitting one another at some distance out. Within seconds, the pinging goes solid, and the Cerean squeezes his trigger just a moment after his wing lead does the same. "Ghost Ten firing," he announces as twin streaks of blue leave the nozzles on the lengthened prow of his snub fighter and race toward one of the massive gaps in the Star Destroyer's hull. The rookie doesn't even realize he's holding his breath as he watches to see whether they hit. "Roger lead." comes the reply from Maroc. Evading turbo laser bolts, Ghost four takes his X-wing in full throttle aimed at the tip of the star destroyer. He slightly dials down his internal compensator to give him a better feel for the maounver he is about to pull. A hundred meters from the hull of the massage ship, Maroc slams down the right rudder and pulls back on the stick, brining his x-wing about and pointed up towards the bridge. Running along, swerving and rolling he depresses the trigger loosing a pair of torpedos at the bridge deflectors. Grunax follows the rest of his group as the dug flips his shields to a rear reinforced setting. The front shields are supposedly being provided by the other A-wings as Falcon six arms one of his concussion missiles. Juking to try and minimize any errant shots that might hit him, the dug keeps a policy of targets of oppertunity only. When he sees the might of a Star Destroyer, even if it's a small one like a Victory-class, unleashed against starfighters and their capital ships, guilt and no small amount of anger(at himself) is felt. He could have done something to end this battle by now, and if not, well he should have done better anyway. None of that shows on his face to those among his bridge crew who would look his way at this moment. At the very least, he's quite calm and collected even, exactly what is expected of him. He walks forward towards the GunChief's emplacement, and reaching past the officer's shoulder, he taps that screen which shows the Vindictive, several points along being designated. "Concentrate our fire as close to those parts of the vessels as you can, they're general locations of power conduits to some of the Victory-class' shields and general weaponry.", amen to serving on the Reprisal for so long. That said, he steps back and lets the GunChief handle his part of the job, the new firing solutions quickly transmitted to the Audacity's gunners, and offered as possibilities to the other GunChiefs of their formation. A direct hit from one of the Vindictive's guns causes a large enough tremor to run through the ship, and after steadying himself, Rasi has enough sense to go back to his original position on the raised platform which houses the seats for the command crew. "Damage Control, report, and strengthen forward shielding." In order to prevent the pulverization of the New Republic starfighters, Portrane's commander issues the order to shift the Frigate around so that its more powerful shields can absorb some of the Vindicator's fire and thus spare their A-Wings from getting flashfried. Land Runner's shields seem to be having some sort of issue, the corvette's commander calling for damage reports as Vindicator's powerful weapons start pounding on her. "I need more power to the shield generators!" her commander roars rather indelicately. Plaxif's Dex seems calmer under fire, pulling up and working to take on some of the fire from their starting-to-flounder comrade. "Jared, we're taking a beating here, so hurry up and take care of business, eh?" Starwind relays the command to the fighters, Ghost and Falcon and their fellow squadrons from Ord Mantell taking more daring risks, but is it enough? Ghost has been lucky so far, but their other X-Wings squadron's down three fighters already. In a flash of progressive color, the NRCV Land Runner starts to explode in succession. And finally break in two spilling its contents into space. Meanwhile, the bridge of the Vindictive shook with the impacts of missiles and torpedoes as they slammed into the armor plating. The constant barrage of laser fire chipped away at the shields as they overloaded the generators and created small gaps in the protective bubble around the ship. The small crew worked hard at trying to put keep the Vindictive in fighting shape but it was clear she was taking a beating. Debris from the broken fighters and rebel capital ship floated about the battlefield, soulless as the dead bodies that had once inhabited them. Small fires burned on the abandoned lower decks, the fire suppression lines severed in the attacks. But the engineers were in over drive pealing away the layers of metal blocking the one protected hanger. The foreman kept Admiral Rall up to the minute on the progress. It was her main goal, to get at very least a shuttle away with the remainder of the crew. "Let the gunners working the fighters to focus on the X-wing, the A-wing are too fast" Then "Check that, they are fine" as Dana notices that Remy has it well in hand. The Admiral never asked for a damage status, it wouldn't matter in the end. She could feel the ship, knew it was holding, but that would change rapidly. Up on the bridge, the Admiral was being tossed around much like her ship. Parts of the structure and ceiling had fallen in, the fragments bloodying her lip and nose. The flow of crimson fluid leaked unchecked from the corner of her mouth, and nose. "Turn us to port! We need to protect that weak spot, and it'll give us a better firing solution on the remaining cruisers" Dana could help wish that she could have launched fighters, that might have given her a chance. But the Rebel onslaught was unchecked, they had only one goal and they didn't seem to be holding a thing back. In her cockpit, Kyrin murmurs a soft Chyleni prayer for the newly departed when Land Runner splits open. "Let us avenge them," she says loud enough to be picked up by the mic in her helmet. "Falcons, wait for Audacity to fire their barrage, then sweep in behind it. They may be able to fire upon anything with impunity, for that is their way. Be mindful of your comrades, Spider." Shifting frequencies, she checks in with Sandman, who reports how well the newbies are doing, particularly the Cerean in Ten. "First flight, vector to point three. Sandman, good work with your flight, shift to lead Third's attack on the weaker points, she is changing aspect to bring more weapons to bear on the corvettes." Her own X-Wing buffets around due to the incoming fire, and she has to haul back on the stick to avoid becoming another casualty. Her X-Wing maneuvers gracefully, much like the winged lady herself under her own power. "They're showing our capitals their strong side, Phoenix, we hurt them there." Raxis calls out over the comm, pulling upwards on his flight yoke to begin a streaming bombing run with X-wings in tow towards the bridge. Unfortunately, there was no way to get to the orb-shapped shield generators without pulling away from the main hull of the Star Destroyer. Room away from the hull meant precious seconds would be gained for the Imperial gunnery crew, and Raxis knew that. "Falcons 7 and up, second flight, loop and hit that port side high again. If the Ghosts are going to run it, we want to make sure it's undefended. First flight, forward group go full forward and rear group go full aft. Let's make a shield pocket for these Ghosts. Whatever you do, keep them safe." He adds, flashing a brilliant maneuver. Criss crossing with a series of barrel rolls and jukes, he leads the charge towards the shield generators. Pulling into the maneuver, he heads dead towards the bridge and tears a few shots off in the process. "Phoenix, they're cornered. They're going tooth and nail on this. We got any intel on who's Captaining this one?". The gunnery corridor shakes and shudders as the rebel starfighters strafe the front of the Vindictive. The lights flicker and die for a moment, leaving the corridor in the eerie glow cast by the targetting systems and status lights. Then, emergency lighting cuts in, and a burst of rapid static reports reach Sergeant Remy's ears. The Sergeant turns away from the comm, scowling in a way that curves a long scar on his face like a serpent. "Carver. Set point one nine." Private Carver turns the turbolaser about, and lets off a barrage of fire that catches one of the approaching X-wings squarely in the cockpit. It turns into a blazing fireball of plasma and metal, scattering against the shields and fizzling into debris. A ghost of a smile reaches Remy's face, mere moments before a massive explosion blows the foreward gunnery corridor wide open. Debris begins flying toward the breach, along with other crewmen, mouths gaping desperately as they are sucked out into the expanse. Remy and Carver cling for dear life to their consoles until the emergency blast doors slam down. Each fall to their faces, but Carver is quick to scramble to his weapon's controls and resume firing. He lets out a scream of pure rage that tears at his vocal cords in the way a man howls when facing death head on. Ta-Nui-Bonda watches with something bordering on exuberance as his first shots fired in live combat impact on the surface of the Imperial ship. "Yes!!" he exults -- moments before his ship is pelted with the debris of an X-wing from another squadron. His glee turns quickly to shock as his shields are ripped from full power down to near nothing, and his own fighter is shaken rather violently. "WHOA!" he exclaims! "Ten!" his wing leader calls, "You still with me?" "I'm here," the Cerean replies. "Holy maker!" The rookie's voice is shaken, and his fingers are shaking as badly while he tries to reconfigure his shields. "Wing, I need a minute. Holy bantha." Ta-Nui-Bonda looks up through his transparisteel canopy at the flames roiling from where his weapons struck, and he briefly considers firing more -- but blindly. "Arthree, shunt power from..." His eyes dodge quickly back and forward while he thinks over his options, "Pull it off the cannons! I'm not using them anyway! Get those shields back up!" Juking his X-wing to port, the rookie pilot tries to get his wits back and realign his ship for another salvo. Turning his x-wing onto its wings and sailing inbetween the shield generators, Maroc lets loose a howl, "Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehaaaaaaaa!" The Corellian starting to get into the grove of anticpating where the turbolaser crews were concentrating their fire and moving to evade the firestorm. Flying out behind the star destroyer, Ghost Four pulls hard straight back on his stuck and twists it so that he has righted himself as he comes out of the manouver, aiming again for the bridge as begins to program a new set of torpedos. "This is Ghost Four, setting up for another pass at the shield generators." he comms in then to the astromech behind him, "Hey R2, see what you can do to increase the yield. We have to do as much damage as possible and fast." Turning his x-wing onto its wings and sailing inbetween the shield generators, Maroc lets loose a howl, "Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehaaaaaaaa!" The Corellian starting to get into the grove of anticpating where the turbolaser crews were concentrating their fire and moving to evade the firestorm. Flying out behind the star destroyer, Ghost Four pulls hard straight back on his stuck and twists it so that he has righted himself as he comes out of the manouver, aiming again for the bridge as begins to program a new set of torpedos. "This is Ghost Four, setting up for another pass at the shield generators." he comms in then to the astromech behind him, "Hey R2, see what you can do to increase the yield. We have to do as much damage as possible and fast." Aboard the Plaxif, Captain Dex grips tight the arms of his captain's chair as a volley of turbolaser fire batters the Plaxif's shields. "Report!" he shouts. The tactical officer wipes some sweat from his brow. "Shields are down to thirty percent, captain! Turbolaser batteries six through nine are offline!" "Reroute power from engine drives four and six to the forward arrays," the captain replies in an oddly calm but loud voice. "Rotate sixty degrees on our spinal axis, Mr. Veyga," he tells the twi'lek female sitting at the helm. "Tactical, inform the aft gunners to take some of the pressure off of our X-wings. Target the third-tier guns. Ion control, pepper the bridge shields. I want a full volley of torpedos on regular five second intervals against the dorsal turbolaser array. Let's not keep our pilots exposed," he says calmly, even as a conduit behind him overloads in a spray of electric sparks. The ship is taking a severe beating from the angry, wounded Star Destroyer. The sudden disappearance of the Land Runner's signal on the secondary screens of the Audacity could mean but one thing, the corvette's effectively removed from the fight, if that euphemism could be used to describe such a horrific thing as its destruction. Mourn later, make them pay now, that oft-repeated phrase runs through his mind just then, and Rasi does his best to follow it. "Switch all fire to the nearest dome holding the deflector-generators, maintain a creeping barrage just in front of our fighters and provide the X-wings some cover through that.", perhaps their sensors would be fooled if huge laserfire from the Audacity's batteries preceded the arrival of the torpedo-carrying Ghosts. And if not, well at least the dome might be destroyed simply through unending fire. "As soon as we can't obtain firing solutions on it, take the Audacity to the other side of the Bridge and do the same with the other dome." Rasi next turns to the task force's commander, Commander Starwind, recommending to him that if the two remaining capital ships are able to, they should move to the sensor cluster near the front of the Star Destroyer and work at getting it out of commission, silencing those sections of the Star Destroyer which require sensors, in particular certain batteries. It takes but a few moments for the Audacity's sensors to give up the required coordinates, and with them, firing arcs are plotted out, and the vessel's guns open up on the dome in question. Each successive hit further lowering the integrity of that particular structure, and only making the task for the next hit that much easier The Admiral doesn't waste time thinking about the broken toy of a corvette, the next focus of her desperate ploy "All batteries, fire at will on the Plaxif" Letting loose with all forward batteries green laser blasts pour into the second Republic Corvette, just as the Vindictive reels from the onslaught of missiles from the remaining corvette, the NRCV Audacity. The stage was set of a stunning escape, however with the hyperdrive destroyed, there was no where to run too. If the crew didn't know already, the Admiral did. This would be the last stand of the Vindictive. The proud warship was not going down without reeking havoc on her enemies, Jal'Dana and what remained of her loyal crew was going to exact a heavy price. The whole ship shuddered as deck plates blew venting atmosphere from one of the pressurized areas on the Destroyer. *Admiral* the chief engineer radioed up to the bridge *The aft bay door is operational.* It was the first bit of good for the woman, but it wasn't enough to turn the tide of battle. "Get your people on one of the Lambdas Chief" Jal'Dana ordered the crew her attention returning to the battle raging around her "Ready for departure when I command - We're going to buy some time" Of course the good news was met with bad as one of the large shields generators on the top of the Destroyer exploded with a brilliant display, this left the Vindictive's stern wholly open to all types of fire. "Line up your next passes, Ghosts," Kyrin instructs her squadron. "Ten, report!" she snaps curtly as her X-Wing rattles around some more, her modified couch keeping her from bending or breaking her wings as it judders under the fire exploding nearby. "Sandman, take the stern and try not to have much fun. Careful, Maroc," she warns Four. "Do not become overconfident. Line up your shot on the bridge deflectors, two torpedoes." Switching channels, she remarks, "Much obliged, Audacity. We are getting through, slowly but surely." "Stay together Falcons and keep on those Ghosts!" Raxis calls out, as he and his flight team successfully aid the Ghosts in destroying one of the shielding domes. Grunting and following the flight path, he lets out a slow sigh as Falcon 11 fades from view. "Spider we lost Paulsen!" A panicked call sounds over his vox, as Raxis turns to maneuver and keeping shield cover on the Ghosts. A rotting sense of dream coming over him as the first of his squadron had been lost under his command. "Second flight veer around and help the Ghost second flight punch on that nose. Watch your shield deflections and stay close to the hull." Enemy fire was litterly tearing the Vindictive apart piece by piece. One of the massive engines had even broke off and was drifting away. "Max out the forward shields around the bridge, and have the remaining gun crews slave the turrets to the bridge. Then tell them to get the frack to a shuttle." There was an urgency to Jal'Dana's voice as she issued her orders. She knew the ship was falling apart, and couldn't stand up much longer. It seemed the Rebels didn't care the price, they wanted the prize. It was something she could grudgingly respect. "Admiral your fighter is ready as well" one of the engineers call up, "And our crews on packaged" The grim sound of his voice alerted Jal'Dana to the fact he knew the ship was lost. But still his efforts would not go unnoticed. That was assuming they all lived It was down to Dana and the bridge crew to make that happen. Target the frigate, all weapons, concede ground to the fighters - there is nothing we can do about them now. And just like that all remaining weapons Thrity Turbolaser Batteries, Eighty Turbolaser Batteries, Sixty Concussion Missile Launchers and holding the NRAF Portrane there to absorb the punishment, the tractor beams. Amongst all of the lancing superheated plasma, a blast of red energy comes fatally close to Turret P-1273. A massive explosion rocks the interior, catching Private Carver full on and throwing him a few meters into the air. He strikes the aft bulkhead with a thud, and slides to the floor, leaving blood on the wall. "Carver!" Remy dashes away from his console, falling to his knees by the wounded gunner. He peels up the Private's eyelid, and sits there for a quiet moment before it all sets in. He turns about and calls out, "MEDIC!" However, there's no response... the onslaught from /Audacity/ has knocked out their communications. "Bloody rebel spice-runners!" he curses, and leaves Carver to die on the floor. He scrambles for the weapon, and takes it under his control once more. Smoke fills the corridor from the excess fire, but he squints his eyes and grits his teeth as he draws another target and begins firing. "May the Emperor smell our sweet victory in death!" he shouts, adrenaline filling his vengeful veins while he masterfully tears another X-wing into pieces. "I'm okay, Lead," Ta-Nui-Bonda replies to Kyrin. At least, he thinks so! Indeed, the X-wing is a little cooked but still operable. The Cerean checks his readouts and confirms that shield power is slowly rising, already back up at thirty percent as his astromech works on it. The Imperial Star Destroyer is positively looming over his tiny ship now as the X-wing squadron drives closer and closer in. The rookie pilot thumbs over and reloads his proton torpedo tubes, preparing to release again. With the Destroyer so close, he almost doesn't wait on a lock. It's at the last second he remembers to lock onto the ship's specific system to pound once more on the same spot. The sureshot mechanism doesn't take long, and within a few seconds, the X-wing is releasing another pair of twin blue streaks. Seeing the explosion of one of the shield generaotrs, Maroc jukes his x-wing slightly to line himself up with the other and draws his targeting recticle over it. A barrage of laser fire from the Star Destroyer arces suddenly pound into his foreward sheilds and he pushes his stick towards the console and begins a sharp dive which he quickly reverses while applying pressure to his left rudder to bring him up into an angle instead of straight up back into the line of fire. After getting level with the star destroyers bridge again he pushes forward on the stick again and bears in full trottle at his target. Another x-wing streaks across before him and erupts into flame as it draws the fire away from Ghost Four. Gritting his teeth Maroc slightly lowers his targeting, aiming for the struts holding the generator above the bridge and then lets loose another pair of torpedos then pulls back on his stick and steaks away from the incoming fire. Grunax gets his shields pounded by a few shots, but, that's what he's here for right now. The Dug working wonders over his energy systems as he focuses and refocuses his shields to recover after every shot. Of course, this is keeping him from attacking, but, it's a team job! Captain Dex leans forward in his seat as the ship is pounded by heavy turbolaser fire. "Bring us about and set a course away from the target," he orders his helmsmen. A small fire breaks out with a fresh volley of fire, is ignored. All eyes are on the growling, snarling Star Destroyer. There's a gasp as the bridge deflector array blows up, clearly. "All weapons, all batteries, target their bridge! Target their bridge!" Reynar shouts, whirling and pointing a finger at the tactical officer. Fingers tap frantically to relay the commands, and a withering volley of turbolaser fire and proton torpedos cut through space to hammer on the dying vessel. It is perhaps too little, too late, however, for the Plaxif. Turbolasers rake her hull and a few slip past a gap in the flickering shields, streaking blossoms of fire across the plating. One digs deep with a vindictive crunch of sizzling steel, and for a few moments, the entire ship flickers and goes inert. Turbolasers fire weakly, sporadically. One hit was all it had taken, but one was enough- the Plaxif was wounded in her heart, the ship's great reactor cores damaged beyond repair. "Dex to all hands. Move to forward dorsal array," the captain announces over the emergency communicator. "All non essential personnel, report to the escape pods and prepare to abandon ship. Prepare to abandon ship. Engineering teams, report to the engine holds and give me a damage report." Limned in yellow-green emergency lighting, Dex's face is implacable, without emotion, despite the way his ship is dying and rolling belly-up on her momentum. Maneuvering well above the destroyed shield generator in an arc, the Audacity's batteries next focus on the other shielding dome. That same tactic as before is resorted to once more, with the guns opening up on the other dome, and keeping a steady fire until just before the fighters make their run against the remaining shield generator. Once the missile tubes are reloaded, the Audacity's navigator takes the corvette for a particularly close run on the remaining generator, and when the correct range is reached, all four missiles are unloaded at once and given a quick push with the tractor beams so that their targets are reached that much faster. When the tubes are emptied, the Audacity pulls up and away from the batteries that are now within reach, though it is not before it has suffered several hits that the vessel peels away, much worse would have been received had it not been for the Marauder's natural speed. The continuous barrage starts once more, and concentrates on those parts of the ship that still pose a threat to the Republican forces, the guns within reach, and in particular the aft targetting systems just behind the shield generators' positions, it too being a smaller dome. Apparently that's a design style popular with the Imperials. "Fire everything we have at those targetting systems, we have to give the Plaxif's crew time to evacuate vessel at the very least. Take us in closer if need be.", anything to keep at least the crew of the other corvette safe and give them necessary time. "Remy!" The call comes from amongst the smoke. It's Sergeant Plax, from Turret P-1268. Plax is wounded but mobile. "Remy! It's time to go!" He rushes Sergeant Remy and grabs him by the shoulder. Remy, however, turns and snarls at Plax. "Get off me!" "Remy! Admiral's orders, abandon ship!" "I don't give a bloody hell about..!" Remy stops, realizing what he was about to say. It all sets in, and his blood chills at the thought that vengeance nearly turned him into a disloyal, irreverant fool. He looks back at the turbolaser controls, and curses vehemently while giving it a firm slap on the side, both out of affection and disgust at being ordered to fall back. Plax steps in to slave the weapon to the bridge, then begins tugging at Remy's shoulder again. "Come on, Remy. It's time to go!" Remy, scowling, turns and goes running with Plax, ducking through a porthole just in time to avoid another massive explosion that begins decompressing the Pow Pow Palace. A blast door slams behind them, sealing them off from the front gunnery corridor. They race for the hangar bay through smoke-filled, debris-littered corridors. The Vindictive was dieing, but it wasn't yet in its death throws. On the surface of the once great destroyer fires ravaged and deck plates lifted as atmosphere vented though the massive wounds. Like a great wounded beast the ship listed badly. It wouldn't be long now. "Commander, it's time to go" There was a sadness to the woman's voice as she touched the back of what had been her command chair. Then opening the all com "All hands, abandon ship; I repeat, all hands abandon ship." From there it was a mad dash to the one working shuttle bay. The two Lambdas were prepped. Hopping up into her fighter, a Z-95 IIa, Admiral Rall was the last fighter pilot on board the dieing vessel. Radioing the two shuttle pilots. "There is going to be a lot of confusion. That will buy us time, but not much. When the doors open, use the hull of the Vindictive as a shield then get to hyperspace ASAP. Rally point 7 mark 42. I'll provide cover." With her last command issued as the Captain of the Vindictive issued, she punched the code and opened the hangar of her dieing ship. "Thank-you" she whispered to the ship. The pair of shuttles lift off carrying the gunners, the bridge crew and following close, Dana's fighter. "Viper to Mu 1 and 2, get out of here now" Watching through the canopy, the Vindictive starts to fatally break apart, guns still blazing away. That is until the reactor blows and with it any recognizable shape of a Star Destroyer. "They are launching escape vehicles," Kyrin reports from her forward position, skimming the hull of the dying Star Destroyer. "Krayt, the Imperials are abandoning ship." She says nothing else for right now as she leads her wing away from the Star Destroyer. When her scopes tell her a Headhunter's fleeing the Vindictive, the Chyleni's silver brow furrows. "Ah ha. Two, with me." Wih that, she and her wingman peel off and arrow toward those ships. "Attention Imperial vessels," she says on the channel she knows the Imperials can pick up. "This is Major Sh'vani. Stand down and you will be treated respectfully until you can be repatriated to the Empire if you so desire." It's a hopeful gesture, one the New Republic offers often. Switching back to regular Republic frequencies, she instructs Two to stick to her wing, no pun intended, and they go hunting for the Headhunter, the lead X-Wing firing a few warning shots with its lasers, deliberately not close enough to harm anything. As the A-wings speed away from the dying Star Destroyer in a dramatic display of destruction, Raxis lets out a slow breath. Hearing of escaping vessels, he tunes his A-wing's sensors to check them over. A Z-95 headhunter? He'd never seen an Imperial pilot in one except for one in particular. "Six, with me." He calls out to Grunax as he vectors to intercept. "Falcon return to protective formation Bravo on the Audacity." He adds, tuning his sensors over the Z-95. "Well...I'll be damned. Krayt that Z-95 may be a V.I.P. repeat...possible VIP on the field. We may have just busted open Admiral Rall's Star Destroyer." Grunax flips on comms a moment as he breaks formation to form up on Falcon Five. "Falcon Six forming on Falcon Five, over." the dug equalizing out all his energy ratios as he also goes into a standard intercept vector with Five. "Krayt Control to Ghost One, acknowledged. Permission granted to open fire if they do not surrender, preferred outcome is disabling and capture, though you are free to use whatever level of force you deem necessary in order to stop them. Kray out.", the short message is transmitted to the lead one of the starfighters before the comm channel is terminated. That taken care of, the Audacity takes care of its own wounds, damage control teams being deployed to the various hull breeches and other critically damaged sections of the vessel. Fortunately, there weren't that many of them after this particular battle. And while this takes place, another message is sent to the remaining vessel, the Portrane to report battle damage and help out in collecting those escape pods that can be picked out and prep for departure soon after. "Krayt Control to Falcon One, you have priority to take that fighter at all cost, disable its engines, and we'll tow it back. If you are not capable of doing so, destroy it." Aboard the Pralix, listing at the scuppers, Captain Dex shakes his head, then depresses the emergency broadcast control unit. "Dex to Task Force Command," he announces into the high-power emergency transmitter. "The Pralix is dead in the water. We're going to need a tow back to Republic space, or else we'll have to scuttle her here and fly back with you. My engines are dead and we have no hyperspace capability at this point in time. Please advise, Starwind." He releases his finger from the broadcast button and leans back, steepling his fingers and watching the Star Destroyer explode in the inky blackness of space. The Captain's only emotional display is a steady expulsion of breath as he waits word from the Task Force Command. As the shuttles near the fringes of the gravity well, the headhunter executes a sharp roll with just thrusters. The nose flips over aft pointing back at the perusing X-wings. The momentum still carrying the ship away from its tormentors. Opening up a channel to the lead X-wing Jal'Dana's raspy voice rings clear as day. "Major Sh'vani, this is Admiral Rall, formerly of the Vindictive. You have the field and on that I commend you. However, push it no further. You will not catch the shuttles as they are at hyperspace range. And I assure you, I will not let you harass them. There has been enough death today, but there is always room for more if you'd like your name added to the rolls. Nor do you have time, because while you hold the field now, more Destroyers will be en route wondering why we have yet to report. You know this to be true." And as if to punctuate the message, Jal'Dana's concussion missile launches lock onto Kyrin's X-wing. The Admiral was in no mood for games, the cost of the Vindictive was high, but she had taken down a few fighters, a pair of corvettes and crippled a frigate, not a bad showing from the old girl. "It's your call Major. Rall out" Within the cockpit of Ghost One, Kyrin checks the sensors, which properly register the targeting lock on her fighter. Concussion missiles. "Admiral Rall, I expect a few credits will be changing hands when we report in, and it will unfortunately take more than you presently have at hand to stop us, should we wish to capture your remaining crew. However, as a gesture of our mercy, we /allow/ you to depart with your crew, for they fought a gallant battle despite the odds. I certainly wish you the best of luck at your court martial. Hopefully Mister Fleming will have no cause to visit your quarters. Fair skies, Admiral. We will meet again. Sh'vani out." Flicking the channel off, she switches to another. "Spider, Falcon Six, peel off. Let them go." Switching yet again, she adds, "Krayt, Ghost appears intact and will monitor Imperial departures. Ghosts, form up. Sandman, no, you may /not/ shoot at the nice admiral. This time." Maroc looks back over his shoulder at the destruction of the star destroyer and breathes a sigh of relief. "Roger that Lead, forming up?. he asks as he vectors around the new pile of debris that was untill recently trying to turn him into a fireball and comes up into formation with Ghost One. Cursing beneath his breath, Raxis peels off and calls off Falcon Six's attack on the admiral. Pursing his lips, he grits his teeth and opens a communication line to the Admiral. "Rall...if you really have a court martial waiting for you, now would be an excellent time to earn your life back. Your ship and command are -gone- Rall. You could disappear. You can't see rain from a cell. Surrender before all they give you for your sacrifice is a life of pain." Grunax follows on after Falcon five, duty to the end. With the damage control teams dispatched, and the battle assessments already being written by the various Intel personnel on the Audacity and those that help them. At long last does Rasi regain his seat since the on-duty commander's task during a battle is to give orders, stand tall and look good doing it. "Audacity command to Plaxif command, the Portrane is coming to tow you back to the nearest Republican shipyard where she'll undergo repairs.", though he wouldn't count on it being active anytime soon. Amen that that's not his ship we're talking about here. "We will send over shuttles, use them and yours to transport your people to the Portrane, life support and structural integrity may be too compromised." And then the three capital ships go about the task of prepping for their departure and picking up what escape pods they can. "Krayt Control to Ghost and Falcon, mop up, and when your tasks are done, return to your respective vessels.", the Audacity and the Portrane given that they're the only ones that can really carry starfighters now. The reply is terse and flat. Aboard the wounded vessel, Captain Dex gets to his feet. "All hands, this is the captain," he announces into the internal communicators. "Abandon ship. Abandon ship. Report to the shuttle bay to be ferried over to the Portrane. Take only essentials with you. All hands, report to the shuttles. Abandon ship." He lifts his hand from the communicator and watches the other bridge crew leave quickly out the aft doors, until only he remains, a lonely sentinel in the battered, sparking atmosphere of his ship's bridge. The Shuttle had already winked out and into hyperspace by the time the rebel major issued her statement of allowance. But the humor in which it was delivered almost made Dana smile. There would be no court marshal, in fact she would see to it that the crew received commendations for their service. Had the Rebel task force met the Vindictive undamaged, the fight might have been different. But there always were a million maybes, and now was not the time. Boy the Rebel pilots liked to talk. Normally she would have let the next pilots comments go by but he seemed to need a response, so she offered one. "Imperials don't surrender" It was all she needed to say. That was the Imperial military way, always death before dishonor. At least, that's how Jal'Dana felt. She knew there would be whispers, Other commanders that would second guess her action suggestions they could have done better. But, there always were whipsers. That too was the Imperial way. Wagging her wig tips in a salute, The Z95 entered hyperspace moments after the shuttles. Yes they would meet again, but Dana's next command would be something much more deadly. It would never replace the old girl, the Vindictive but it would be made into a new home. And there was a debt she would have to return. Today was the Rebel's day and they earned it in blood.